The End of the Last Century
by ROBLOXCATSTORM
Summary: A dying Vermouth leaves Conan with a clue that allows him to realize just how much the Black Organization is in control.
1. September 10, 1994

I posted this fic for the 20th anniversary of Detective Conan. It was written over about a seven-month process. I don't expect it to be finished any time soon but I forced a good chunk of it before the 19th. Enjoy! 

* * *

"It was you!"

Kogoro Mouri, head down, eyes shut, mouth slightly agape, pointed at a bare-headed and skinny man.

"You...who created the fake body...Wataru Koichi!"

The other monks gasped. Kogoro sat within a tatami room near a door, Conan right around the corner, Ran watching in curiosity as her father entered a strange trance. She briefly wondered if he had been possessed.

"You secretly told the victim to leave. Meanwhile, you created a dummy and dressed it in his clothing. Finally, you burned it to resemble a burnt corpse. You meant to pin the blame on your master because you hated him."

The accusee gritted his teeth. "What proof do you have against me?"

"Gasoline," said Kogoro. "Conan told me that the clothing hidden in your room smelled strange."

The man paused, his eyes widened, and then fell upon his knees. "I did it for my father," he said, before breaking into a sob.

* * *

Conan followed Ran and Kogoro out of the temple as the police took Koichi away. The three walked down a steep grassy slope and got into a rental car, and Kogoro drove off with a face of disappointment and frustration.

Conan would have felt more at ease if Mouri hadn't had a beeru earlier, but he assumed it had been long enough since. The car hit a bump, and Conan jolted out of his seat.

"Dad! Slow down!" said Ran.

"I'm fine!"

Conan pulled the seat belt tighter in annoyance.

It had been a long and tiring trip to the more natural parts of Japan. The family took photos and went hiking, and even got to stay at a fancy hotel. Despite all this, there was still an alleged murder case, which didn't quite ruin everything since no one actually died, but still upset the mood of the last evening of the holiday.

Conan was physically exhausted and fell asleep about as quickly as Ran did. Kogoro huffed. "They have the privilege to sleep..."

* * *

Conan was roused in the middle of convenient REM sleep by his flip phone vibrating nearby. He waited for it to vibrate a second time, and then thrice. It stopped. Grudgingly, he remembered that he had forgotten to turn it off before bed, and then sat up to see who had texted him.

He pried the two halves of the phone apart and the backlight turned on. The phone number wasn't displayed, nor was a contact. Conan pressed the center button and opened the message.

"Come to block 3 in the alley. Important information. No tricks. -Vermouth"

That was interesting.

How did Vermouth even get his number?

Without hesitation, he put on his identificatory blue blazer and cyan shorts, made sure all of his gadgets were fully charged and on his person, grabbed his skateboard from beside the doorway, and snuck out of the apartment.

He considered leaving Ran a note in case he didn't return, but remembered that this was a chance meeting with Vermouth, not Gin and Vodka. His safety was almost guaranteed.

* * *

Conan turned on several intersections into a darker neighborhood. He found the address, and went into the alleyway to its right. An odd black car suddenly appeared around the corner and drove out into the street, and Conan jumped back, hiding behind a mailbox as he watched a dark Porsche drive off. He deduced that Gin was just leaving. Was this actually a trap? He waited until there was no sign of movement and then walked into the alley.

Vermouth was slumped awkwardly against the side of her car.

"Oh, it's you, Cool Guy..." said Vermouth. No matter how much trouble she was in, she still managed to use broken English. "You arrived at a good time."

Conan walked up to Vermouth. "I see your organization has finally betrayed you."

Vermouth held her lower chest. Conan gritted his teeth and looked closer at the wound. She was slowly dying from the punctured vital area. She could still talk, it wasn't the lung. Probably the stomach.

"I have something to tell you, Kudo."

"I'm listening."

"Have you ever thought about how much you have accomplished in such little time? How long has it been since you took the drug?" She stopped to inhale. It sounded painful. "Less than a year, am I correct?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"How much time do you actually think has taken place?" Conan was confused, and stayed silent.

"Might I suggest to you the idea that it has been much, much longer than you think?"

He went to school every weekday and sometimes got caught up in a case. It honestly hadn't been even a year. Vermouth was right about that, at least. "What are you saying?" he asked. "You've solved hundreds of cases in such a short period of time, detective. You must run into two cases a day to have to deal with this kind of schedule."

"Murder doesn't happen that often..." said Conan.

"Exactly... You've been deceived into believing a paradox."

"What?"

"You only think that it has been a few months. In reality... it's been years since you first became involved with us."

"But how can you say that when nothing has changed?"

"Tantei-kun, how many autumns have you seen since then?"

Conan began to count. There was the time with the festival murder, and then the incident at the camp, and... all of these had happened very far apart from each other.

"I can see that you're bewildered," she said. "To be stumped by a logic puzzle as simple as counting to twenty."

"...That many?"

"It's simple," said Vermouth. "Our goal was to create this phenomenon. You can't understand it because that's how we made it feel."

"Why should I believe what you are telling me?"

"Doesn't it feel wrong? Like time is passing too slowly? Like you haven't gotten anywhere?"

"What do you mean?" said Conan.

Vermouth's upper lip twitched in pain as she forced some sort of smile. "That's a secret."

Conan's hands balled into fists and his shoulders jerked up. He was getting impatient. "Then why did you tell me this?"

"I think our silver bullet has the right to be exposed to a few truths." Vermouth sighed and then inhaled again slowly. "Stopping the Organization is your duty now. I've given you their most important secret... Tell your mother that I regretted being her enemy."

Vermouth took a case out of her pocket, opened it, and painfully swallowed one of the capsules inside.

"What are you doing!? Is that...!?"

"I can't reveal my own organization as my killers."

"But what if you...?"

"It won't work. Get away from here now."

Conan obliged, but as he got to the end of the alleyway, he couldn't help but watch. After all, it could have been him when it all started. Vermouth convulsed somewhat and then became still, the poison doing its proper job for once.

* * *

Conan laid in his futon and stared at the ceiling. That didn't make any sense at all. Vermouth is dead and her secret was that time had stopped. How could time be stopped? Why hadn't anyone noticed? What evidence is there for that to make sense in the first place?

Every deduction needs evidence for it to work. Evidence is what everybody asks for. Without it, a deduction is just a fanciful theory. Conan just witnessed his only safe link to the organization die out. He had to tell Haibara first and foremost. Then Jodie, when it was safe to talk to her. Definitely not by phone. Had there been security cameras anywhere near that alleyway? The Organization would have taken the digital film off their owners' hands by now. They had probably already done so, if it even happened at all. Sleep isn't an obstacle for them. But it is for Conan.


	2. September 11, 1994

"You're sure you don't know anything about this!?" said Conan.

"Sorry, Kudo-kun," said Ai, "but I was never given clearance to know information like that when I was part of the Organization. You're starting to sound ridiculous."

"Nothing about time? ...Or anything like that?"

Ai nonchalantly left the room.

"Oi...what a bother."

"What sort of clues led you into thinking that, Shinichi-kun?" said Agasa.

"I encountered one of their dying members last night."

"What!? How come you never tell us about these sort of situations?"

"Did they have a codename, Kudo-kun?" asked Ai, who had returned to the room because she was interested again.

"It was Vermouth," said Conan. "Gin shot her and she told me all this information. Then she died."

"She's putting you on a false trail," said Ai. "The tasks that the Organization had me undergo didn't serve that sort of purpose."

"I think what she presented is logical," said Conan. "Our minds are only tricking us into believing that standard time is passing, like a sensory cage."

"So you trust a member of the Organization who was previously tasked with killing me and has probably lied to you before?"

"Perhaps."

"Now, Shinichi," said Agasa, "Ai has a point. Vermouth may have spared your life before, but she probably still had loyalty to the Organization."

"It just doesn't make sense," said Conan. "I have to go now, Ran is expecting me. Thanks for the snack, Professor." He left the laboratory and skateboarded off into the distance.

"I don't believe Vermouth is dead," said Ai.

"Why do you think that?"

"She definitely wouldn't do anything to threaten her position in the organization, or her life."

* * *

It was a slow Sunday morning in the Mouri Detective Agency's office. Ran was out hanging with Sonoko and Mouri was still asleep with a serious hangover. Conan had just returned from his trip to Agasa's. Wielding a wooden stool, he took a binder of photos out of a bookshelf in the office and opened it up. He flipped through the pages. There were far too many photos from trips and events they had all been in to only take up half a year. He looked up from the album and back at the bookshelf. This was only the first photo album in a large series of binders.  
Conan took out more volumes. There were far too many photos to only take up ten years. Conan counted the photos. There was nearly twice ten years' amount. Twenty years. That was normal to everybody, right?

He took out some of the pictures, flipped them over, and looked at the dates written on the back in Ran's handwriting. May 1994. October 1994. Then it wrapped back to January 1994. It felt ridiculous, but it was real. Several 1994s had passed since he first took the drug. Why did whatever happened to cause this anomaly coincide so closely with the date of his fateful encounter with Gin and Vodka?

And then on his second run-through, he pinpointed when Haibara began to show up in the pictures with the Detective Boys included. It was around four years. It had only felt like less than a month that Conan had been alone in his suffering.

There was absolutely no probable answer other than the one that Vermouth had provided him with, unless he had started to go insane or was dreaming again. Regardless, by the law of Holmes, it had to be the truth. The Organization had the power to kill time, and they did it so subtly that no one noticed for over a decade. Wouldn't he be much older by now? He compounded some figures in his head - he would be physically 26 and Shinichi would be 36 if time worked correctly. That made absolutely no sense at all. Conan had been 6 longer than he had been Shinichi Kudo. He hadn't changed much since it first happened, not even mentally.

Conan then had a flash of realization. What if APTX4869 halted aging? Of course, if time wasn't passing, he would have noticed whether this was true. Would he have still been 6 for 20 years if everything in the world worked right? What if he was immortal?

He stopped there. That was heading into speculation and impossibility by his standards. He still needed to ask Ai about the nature of the drug, though.

* * *

"Hello? Mom?" Conan leaned against the wall of the public phone booth.

"Shinichi! So glad to hear from you! How are you doing?"

"I'm all right. It's how it is as usual." "No new leads?"

"Well, actually..."

"You found something out?"

"Yeah, Vermouth told me something interesting. However, she died. She told me to tell you that she..."

Yukiko was quietly sobbing on the phone.

"Are you okay, Mom?"

"What did she want to tell me?"

"She...regretted that you had to be her enemy."

Yukiko sniffed. "I see."

"Why are you crying over Vermouth? She wanted to kill Haibara and everyone working with her."

"She was still one of my actor friends."

"Sorry, Mom."

"Friendship is a lot more powerful than what you may think, Shinichi."

"I know."

* * *

Ayumi and the rest left Agasa's lab, but Conan made an excuse and walked back through the doorway.

"Haibara-san, I have something important to ask."

"What is it?"

"You know the mechanisms behind how the apotoxin works, right?"

"I designed it. What are you suggesting?"  
"Does it halt aging in addition to reducing it?"  
"That's a good question, Kudo-kun. I haven't ever seen any long-term effects of it, apart from our own. The laboratory rat that experienced its side effects didn't live for very long afterwards."

"But you would know, wouldn't you? How it works? You are a chemist."

"Is this about the nonsense you heard from Vermouth?"

"It's related."

"APTX most definitely stops aging."

Conan looked stricken.

"Just kidding. If everything works correctly, we should grow up normally."

"You monster," said Conan. "I shouldn't trust you as much as I do."


	3. September 12, 1994

Conan walked to school. It was a cloudy September 1994 morning. Nobody noticed that this September 1994 morning had been extremely similar to the one exactly a year earlier. Except for Conan, who was walking to school.

Conan recalled how things had changed and yet nothing had changed at all. Smartphones and tablets and Wi-Fi and funny little game systems that had a 3D eye trick built in (uncreative) were all relatively new. Or were they? Only a couple of months back Kogoro had bought a Super Famicom for him. No, no, that's not right, by months he really meant years. Now it was dusty and barely worked, stored away in a closet, and not even he had noticed that it had been far too short of a time for that to make sense at all.

Ayumi's family had been lucky enough to buy her an iPad so she could play all sorts of touch sensor games. That sort of technology shouldn't exist in the same year that Agasa had gotten a new dial-up connection working in his lab. The murder case involving a manga artist using tablets couldn't have been pulled off in a different, older 1994. Things were beginning to become less and less clear to Conan now, and it was starting to cause a headache.

If Conan was actually considering this anomaly as a plausible idea, why couldn't anyone else?

"Yo, Conan!" Conan nearly yelled in surprise as Genta appeared next to him, followed by Mitsuhiko, Ayumi, and Ai, who was leisurely pacing herself instead of catching up.

"Don't scare me like that. I'm thinking."

"Is it a case?" asked Mitsuhiko. It stopped being a question after that. "I saw on TV that crime happens most often on Fridays. Like bank robberies."

"Yeah," said Conan. "It's a really important one, too."

Ai finally caught up to the group. "It wouldn't happen to be what I'm thinking you're thinking about?"

"It is. I still think it's possible."

"How?"

Conan lowered his voice, which wasn't that necessary, because Genta was singing about eels. "I don't see why you can't understand it. I opened up a photo journal yesterday and there was too much content in it to fit in a single year, much less the six months we've been led to believe."

"If anyone other than you had noticed that this year was continuing without end, the world would be up in arms. How do you know that you're not just paranoid because of what Vermouth told you? She may as well be leading you on the wrong trail because of a complication. Maybe this is all a distraction just to slow down your pursuit of them."

"That's not what I'm asking, Haibara. I'm wondering whether you believe me or not."

"No."

"But can't you at least see that nothing makes sense any more?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Your mind is overworked, Kudo-kun. I lived within the Organization for all my life, and I was never given information regarding anything of that sort. It is scientifically impossible for time to stop in such a way that we can keep living, untouched by its effects. Vermouth is toying with your perception of things, giving you doubt, so that she can slow down your search, like I just said. She wants to keep her deeper secrets hidden from the public. It's her own selfish strategy."

"Age reduction is impossible, too, Haibara, and you managed it."

"That's different. It seems impossible, but that's only because science hasn't gotten that far yet, while the Organization has. That affects people on a small scale. If what you said about time's flow was true, the entire world, much less the universe, would be in chaos. Things like that can only actually happen in science fiction. Physics prevents these kinds of things from taking effect. Time is an independent variable that is required for nearly everything in this world to work. Not only that, but you claim that only certain parts of time have been restricted, and that makes even less sense and creates several complications that cannot be explained sensibly."

Ai stopped and noticed that everybody was staring at her.

"Ai-chan, what does that mean?" asked Ayumi.

"Oh, I was just talking with Conan-kun about this science fiction book I'm reading."

"Oh. I didn't understand any of it."

"My brain hurts," said Genta.

"Regardless," said Ai, "you have no idea what you're talking about, Conan-kun."

Conan sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets.

* * *

Kobayashi-sensei pointed to a simple symbol on the chalkboard. "Can any of you tell me what this kanji means?"

Genta shot up his hand before Mitsuhiko could. Conan would have thought this was amusing, but he was not in the right mood for it.

Genta looked at it for a moment. He had raised his hand without properly thinking about the answer. The class was staring silently at him.

"It's grass." he said.

"Very good, Genta-kun. Now, can anyone think of a compound that uses this kanji?"

Conan wondered why everyone put up with learning the same knowledge over and over again. He surely had learned a lot in the past twenty years through experience. For example, when Asou Seiji committed suicide, he vowed never to let it happen again, and he passed this teaching on to Heiji. This hadn't been wiped from his memory every school year, and yet the kids in the first grade were still struggling to relearn important kanji that they should already know at a millisecond's glance.

Maybe the fact that he actually hadn't learned anything useful at school factored into how he felt. If he had been in high school, he probably would have re-forgotten the information over and over again, just like everybody else. He already knew so much worldly information from reading books that it didn't seem like much of a detriment. He had a flashback to the roller coaster murder case, where he figured that a passerby was a gymnast with only an improper glance.

In that day and age he had acted radically different. He had been a devout follower of Sherlock Holmes's behavior and personality, which made him act like an obnoxious jerk all the time around Ran. He had been through these feelings of regret for his egotistical behavior many times before. It was what had gotten him into this awful situation, anyway. Now he could care less about whether he played the violin or had a proper Dr. Watson (Haibara, however, was very qualified) and hadn't read a Holmes book in ages, even if he was still a fan. He acted a lot more like himself than he cared to admit because he had to act like he was six all the time anyway.

But why was his personality changing if his academic knowledge didn't? Why were people like Sato and Takagi and Kobayashi and Shiratori gradually hooking up and advancing in their relationships? Shiratori was no longer in a competition for Sato's heart, Agasa had found the woman he had missed for so long, and Kogoro and Eri had been occasionally working on somewhat friendlier terms. Even he himself had finally arrived at the point where he told Ran that he loved her. That was kind of awkward, though.

Kobayashi rapped her pointer stick on Conan's desk. He had gradually sunk his head down and looked like he was sleeping, even though he was just in extremely deep thought.

"All right, Conan-kun, since you've been sleeping, can you demonstrate for the class the correct way to write this kanji?"

* * *

"Hey, Cool Kid," said Jodie in English.

"You're absolutely sure this place is free of surveillance?"

"I've thoroughly searched, it's safe."

"Did you check under our table?"

"I didn't become an FBI agent without knowing to look under the table, Conan-kun. You need to trust me."

Conan briefly felt guilty about not telling Jodie that Akai was alive and well. He metaphorically shoved it off his heart. That was for Akai's own safety, and she would understand in the end.

"I have some important information to share with you," said Conan. He looked around. Nobody had followed them into the café. They were far away from the other customers. The waiter had just left with their orders. "Vermouth is dead."

"Oh," said Jodie in English again. She took it in for a moment and then said, "How did you find this out?"

Conan sort of stared at the little circle in Jodie's framed glasses. Those were allegedly her father's glasses. Vermouth killed her father, and now Vermouth was dead. "She told me two nights ago through a text message with no return address. I followed her instructions and found her bleeding to death in an alleyway in block 3. She died quickly." He purposefully left out what Vermouth told him and her method of accelerating her demise.

"It wasn't in the papers. Did you get there early enough to talk to her? Did she tell you anything?"

Conan took a chance. "She did. But most of what she said involved something that makes little sense…"

"What was it?" "She claimed that time had stopped and that it had been 20 years since then."

"What's 'then'?"

"Since…" Conan stopped. "I don't know. But it's hard to believe. I think she may have been lying."

"Well, of course she was lying. That kind of science fiction material can't happen. But why would she tell you that in her dying words? Was she throwing us off the trail?"

"I'm unsure," said Conan, "but I have a theory."

Jodie smirked. "Maybe if it's been 20 years then that's why you're so smart for a little boy and I'm losing my touch."

"No, that's not it."

"I've placed my full faith in you, Conan. If you've got a serious reason to hide things from me, don't hesitate to."

They were quiet for a little while, and then the waiter brought the drinks. Conan took a sip of his lemonade.

"I can't go around telling people what my deal is," said Conan. "It could compromise a lot of things."

"You are kind of an enigma to everyone."

"Well," said Conan, "people who know the truth about it will react differently to me. Like Vermouth. I don't know if it'd make much of a difference to you, though, since I act honestly when I'm talking with you and the other agents."

"You should probably stop there. You're making me more curious about it, and giving yourself excuses to tell me. If you keep going I might even figure it out myself."

"You're right."

"Let's focus back on Vermouth. Let's say what she said was true. How much evidence is there to support what she said?"

"I can't provide any obvious evidence, apart from the fact that I've attended nineteen different versions of the exact same summer festival and have filled 20 or so picture albums with pictures taken only in 1994."

"How long do people think it's been since time 'stopped'?"

"About six months."

"What do you mean about the photo albums, though?"

"I have five pictures from 1994 that were taken on the same date and all had different events going on that couldn't all be accomplished in one day."

"What are the details?"

"Ran, who organized the photos, dated all of the photographs. The first year, on June 20th, Ran and I went to the beach. Then after that, after an entire two years of pictures, on June 20th we went to a hotel and we solved a murder case. Seven years' worth of pictures after that one, on June 20th, Ran took a photo of Goro, her mother's cat, who was staying with us that day. A year after that, there is a picture of us at a wedding that took place on June 20th. Finally, three years later, we visited a national park on the 20th and Ran took several pictures of flowers. I'm six years old. I shouldn't have even been alive for those earlier ones."

Jodie put a hand to her forehead. "I'm as lost as you are now. But you said earlier that you doubted what Vermouth told you."

"I didn't want to sound like I was taking her seriously until I got into the details."

"Well, Conan-kun, I'm not sure how to believe it. No one else noticed, too?"

"Right. I tried to tell Haibara and she wouldn't take a word of it for the truth."

"That's natural, I suppose."

"Let me explain this more. I've dealt with hundreds of murder cases over these six months. That's definitely not possible for anyone. If I compared the statistics with the time, I'd have to have had nearly one murder per week to fill the quota. From memory, this isn't how it had actually been."

"Conan-kun, I can see where you're coming from. But all of the evidence you've found only deals with your own experiences. Let me do some talking."

"All right."

"From memory, I first came to America to look for Vermouth and become an English teacher about four months ago. From what you've seen, how many years in does this place me?"

Conan recalled that the first time he heard of Jodie was when he was Shinichi for a day and was told about the new English teacher by his rowdy classmates. Ran had some pictures from that day. They were about five years in by then. "Five years," said Conan. "That leaves fourteen."

"That's ridiculous, if I had lived in Japan for fourteen years instead of four months, I would be a lot more used to it than I am now."

"Do you really think all the operations we've had could have been done reasonably within that time frame of four months?"

Jodie paused to think about it. She also started counting on her fingers, then she stopped suddenly and put down her hands. "Probably not. I can see where you're coming from now, Conan-kun."

"That's good," said Conan. He took another drink of his lemonade. "I don't know what to do next. We don't have any leads. The only thing we know now is what Vermouth told us."

"So for now it's probably impossible to get to the bottom of this, right?"

"Yeah...maybe."

"Have you thought of something?"

"How much information on the Organization do we have in the first place?"

"Hmm…" Jodie's brow lowered. "Not much. Just about as much as you know, unless there's something you haven't told me yet."

"Those things compromise me, and aren't as important."

"OK."

"I know someone who knows people in Interpol. I told him back when this began that I could do it myself, but I may need to swallow my pride and ask for his help."

"You wanted to go after this dangerous organization without anyone to back you up?"

"I was brash about it at first. I didn't know how clever they were, as well, until I had more encounters with them."

"You're six years old. Whatever caused you to find out about them must have been very jarring."

"It was. And if we count our lost time, I should be twenty-six now."

"That's frightening. It's like you never grew up. You're trapped in that body."

Conan shuddered at how close she was. He was reeling on the edge of telling her because it was just that similar. "I… don't think I've gotten any smarter since this first started. No one else has changed at all."

"So you've always been like this?"

"Jodie-san, you're pushing it."

"Well, sorry."

"It's getting late. I need to get home soon."

"Go ahead, we should continue this later. Got a good time tomorrow?"

"Sure, how about…"

* * *

Conan stood in a public phone booth.

"Otou-san?"

"Hey, Shinichi, what's up?"

"I have a favor to ask of you."

"Go ahead. Keep in mind that I still have to finish this Night Baron volume by the end of this month."

"Okay. You know how I said that I needed to solve this case by myself?"

"Is this going where I think this is going, Shinichi?"

"Yes, I admit that I need your help with the situation I'm in."

"Do you need to come to America?"

"It's not that desperate, Otou-san...in fact, you have plenty of time."

"What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to get Interpol to look into something."


	4. September 13, 1994

"I'm guessing I don't need to ask you about bugs this time."

"It's my own apartment, I know every corner of it," said Jodie.

"You know they can break and enter without leaving so much of a trace, right?"

"I don't doubt that, but I've set up some cameras of my own."

"Fair enough."

"So, Cool Kid, what have you done since I last saw you?"

"I contacted my link into Interpol. He's agreed to help me out. In fact, he might be working on it at this very moment. As for you, who in the FBI have you told about the time anomaly yet?"

"I've kept my mouth shut about it. They'd think I was crazy."

"Hopefully if I can get Interpol to confirm it, then maybe they won't think you're so crazy after all."

"Your friends work fast, Conan-kun."

"I know them on a personal level, they don't mind." Jodie shifted one leg over another. Conan took another sip of his orange juice.

"It still bothers me that you're a first grader and you seem to know… well, everything," said Jodie.

"It provides the best kind of cover, at least."

"I know you talked about it being a personal affair, but if we FBI knew what your real deal was, we may be able to help you."

"It's tempting for you to say that, but it will be better in the long run if my business is kept to myself."

"I'm sure that if you've got other people in your circle of confidantes, they won't mind my presence."

Conan didn't say anything.

"We've probably had higher stakes at risk from people other than you. Shuuichi and Kir, especially."

"A sensible guess."

"Another thing," said Jodie. "I've done some research into you. You can't possibly have done things that you said you did. Your files say that you've never boarded a plane or a boat in your life and there's no passport at all, yet there was that case you solved in London, what, a couple of years ago?"

Conan was kind of surprised that Jodie had looked into his records. How much did the FBI have access to when they were still only pretending to be taking a vacation in Japan? "I have a reason for those records not matching, but you knowing this doesn't change the situation. I'm still not planning on telling you."

Jodie seemed determined to get answers. She looked at him directly. "How about this proposal? If you told me who you were, how much would I regard you differently?"

"Not much, but that's because I've given away my intellect and affiliation with you already. You'd just be short of some amazement or curiosity. What you would regard differently, however, would probably be the Organization."

"So what's the difference if you tell me or not? I'd like to know anything if you're keeping information about them from me. It's not like it'll bring us any tactical disadvantages if you supply us with more knowledge, right?"

"Jodie-san, I hate being talked into a corner."

"Sorry, but your situation piques our interest. If you decide to fill us in and tell me everything, you'll have the entirety of the FBI's resources at your fingertips."

Conan decided it was time to utilize his best excuse. "I know that you're telling me all this, but I promised someone that I wouldn't shove my identity around."

"Who?"

"Someone who's just as directly involved as I am."

"I wish you'd just get to the point about this."

"I can't just betray this other person." Conan thought about the fact that Haibara would be incredibly mad if she found out that he had once again given away his identity. But he could give an excuse about them finding out without him telling them, or... "Wait, I've got an idea."

"What?"

"I can't say it directly, but maybe you can figure out the truth yourself. We'll play a game of it." It was a stretch, but we all have to push the envelope sometimes.

Jodie sighed and looked impatient. "How can I do that? I've already tried to piece it together. Nothing makes sense."

"Go on, Jodie-san. Please elaborate. I want to know what you think."

"I want to know what Vermouth wanted from you and Haibara-san. Why did she have pictures of you, her, Ran-san, and Shinichi-san?"

"I can't tell you. Keep thinking."

"This is an awfully painful way to lead me to the truth, Conan-kun."

Conan decided to ignore that comment. "Tell me more about your deductions."

"Vermouth had written things on some of the pictures she took. Yours said 'Cool Guy' even though you're a kid. Ran's had 'Angel' written on hers. Then there was this strange girl-"

"Who?"

"She had brown hair in a perm and there was an 'X' through her picture."

"What inferences can you make about her?"

Jodie put one hand to her forehead. "These are some strange questions, Conan-kun. She looks similar to Haibara-san in appearance. Are they related?"

"I already told her I can't tell you the answers."

"Told who? Haibara-san? That older girl?"

Conan realized that he had screwed up. "Yes."

"That's not answering the question."

"Sorry, but I can't say anything more about it. Please keep going."

Jodie shifted her legs again.

"On the night where we faced off against Vermouth, she seemed to have wanted to kill Haibara."

"Correct."

"Did Haibara have an older sister or relative that had something to do with the Organization?" Jodie put one hand to her chin in thought. "Did Haibara know something about the Organization from her sister?"

"You're half right," said Conan.

"Which half, though?"

He decided not to tell her the actual half that she was right about, and made up a logical statement. "The latter can't be true without the former being true, but the former can be true without dependence on the latter."

"So you're saying that Haibara had an older sister who was involved with the Organization, or perhaps was its enemy?"

"Yes, but I'm not going to elaborate."

"Come on, tell me already, I've gotten somewhere but I can't just infer anything from this. Whoever made you promise to keep quiet about your secret really should have thought about what problems it could pose you."

Conan just stared at her, waiting for Jodie to continue.

"Was it Haibara-san who asked you not to tell?"

"Yes."  
"What will she do if you do tell?"

"It's not a matter of whether I tell, it's a matter of whether we're discovered by the Organization because I told someone and they accidentally reveal it themselves. If that happens, then this whole investigation trail is going to peter out because we'll all be dead."

"Why doesn't Haibara-san trust the FBI?"

"She doesn't trust anyone, not even myself." Conan sat back in the chair. "Can you continue, Jodie-san? I can't let you lead me into giving this all away."

"So her relative in the Organization, who looks like her, is dead or has been neutralized somehow, and Vermouth wants to kill Haibara because she probably knows something about her relative, or was given information regarding the Organization."

"You're right on nearly all regards," said Conan. "Except that girl in the picture wasn't Haibara's relative."

"But that girl in the picture looked just like her," said Jodie. "What are you implying?"

"Think about it, Jodie-san."

"Does this… does this have anything to do with Vermouth?"

"That I can't answer."

"Does it have anything to do with you?"

"It has nearly everything to do with me." Conan looked at her. "When you've eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." He smirked because he got to use his favorite Holmes quote. "What does that leave, Jodie-san?"

"Is Haibara that girl in the picture?"

Conan continued to smirk.

"You're bluffing," said Jodie. "That makes nearly no sense at all. I want the truth, Conan-kun, even if you have to give up on your own word."

"I already have, I've been helping you along with this deduction."

"Then why won't you just tell me the full truth already?"

"It's better if you figure it out for yourself."

"What difference does it make, whether you tell me or I slowly discover the answer without any help? It's not efficient, it's not fair or sensible."

"I don't want to give you all of this at once. It's easier to think about this in the way you've already laid it out. Please continue."

"Fine, whatever," said Jodie. "Forgive my testy behavior. So… how can Haibara actually be the girl in that photo? She's six years old."

"What did you say before about Vermouth?" "Well… Vermouth looks the same, no matter how old she is. But that doesn't makes sense for Haibara. How can one go from being a young woman to a…"

Jodie stopped and looked at Conan. "You're not really a little kid, are you."

"Not in the least."

"Then who really are you, if you're not a little boy?"

Conan took off his glasses. "Kudo Shinichi."

Jodie stared at Conan, surprised. "You're him!?"

"You don't really think that Shinichi would have me on my speed dial and yet never talk to Ran, right?"

"I suppose that makes enough sense, but how am I supposed to believe you?"

"What other option is there? With my reasoning abilities, knowledge of several scholarly and trivial subjects, and general attitudes, you should have almost been suspecting it before, had you known me before this happened."

"Not everyone comes to the conclusion that Kudo Shinichi was somehow turned into a first grader right away. But how did you and Haibara reverse your age?"

"It wasn't my idea, nor was it hers. I was poisoned by a drug developed by the Organization themselves. They opted to use it on me instead of outright shooting because they didn't want to draw attention to themselves. The drug was supposed to kill me but it triggered a completely different effect. The Organization doesn't know about this at all, which is why I have to remain under cover."

"So is Haibara one of the victims as well?"

"Self-imposed."

"She took it by her own will? How did she get this drug?"

"She made it."


	5. September 20, 1994

Conan walked into the detective agency, announced his arrival, and dropped his backpack in his room. It had been a week since he had called his father and requested the information. Now all he had to do was wait. It was hard to patiently sit around while his father did the work for him.

"I'm going to go skateboarding, Oji-san," he said, and took his adventure-battered skateboard outside.

It was still September 1994, and even though it was horribly wrong for it to still be 1994, it was alright for now.

Beika Park had a couple of resident fun-goers sitting on the benches or having picnics or just playing around. Conan skated down the sidewalk, steering away from bicyclists and enthusiastic dogs.

No one else seemed to notice that anything was wrong. They were all too busy taking their time for granted. Conan definitely would have been doing the same if he hadn't known any better. He had just been solving mysteries and believing that things would eventually change, even though they never did at all. He hadn't moved up to even the second grade.

That was funny, too. After the break in the spring, everyone went back to the same grade. At New Year's, no one ever congratulated anyone on a new 1995. No one could actually tell. Why, though? Vermouth had said something about perception. The Organization made it so that people couldn't tell the difference. Experiences that were repeated over and over again still seemed fresh to them even after years of exactly the same kind of life. Children (like Conan himself) did not get taller or more mature or even lose any teeth. People had been doing their jobs endlessly without notice of how long it had actually been.

The only real movements were taking place in Conan's own sphere of influence: the growing popularity of Sleeping Kogoro, his resistance against the organization and the aid of the FBI, and hundreds of murders. Perhaps something near to him was the catalyst for action. Maybe it was himself.

Probably not, though. That was too far into the supernatural. Besides, other people had been advancing their lives outside of his presence. Even when he was Shinichi, things had been the same for a while: his parents away in Los Angeles, his gradual success as an asset to the police, his hanging out with Ran every day as best friends. After his inspection of the photo albums, he began to suspect that things had been stationary even at that point in time. When had time's flow actually stopped?

It was frustrating. There was no logical explanation as to why any of this could have ever occurred in the first place, but the evidence was ever present. You can't arrest a criminal on pieces of evidence if you have no way to piece them together sensibly. Haibara didn't care about that, though, and instead ruled by law of science that Conan was going gradually insane. When people have mental problems, they often don't notice it themselves. He wondered if this was the case, and that he was having delusions of the most logical kind, like in his dreams.

Conan reached the end of the park and turned around to skate back the other way, but found himself approached by the Detective Boys.

"Hi, Conan," said Ayumi. "Want to play soccer?"

"Sure," said Conan. It would be easier to think while he played.

* * *

After the soccer game, which cleared Conan's head somewhat, he was on his way home when he noticed a vibration in his pocket. It was Shinichi's flip phone. He opened it, preparing himself for a conversation with Ran, when he noticed it was his dad. That was fast.

Conan flipped the phone open.

"Hello, son," said Yuusaku.

"Hi, Otou-san."

"You've finally got yourself a proper lead," said Yuusaku.

"What did you find out?"

"I can't tell you over the phone, firstly. I'm flying out to Japan tonight. I'll see you tomorrow at our house."

"What do you mean by 'firstly'?"

"I have a couple less confidential things to tell you. Your mother is staying in Los Angeles this time, she has a party to go to that she wouldn't miss for the world. She's still pretty upset, too."

"It figures."

"I've got to go now, son. Be careful." The receiver started beeping. Conan ended the call and turned the volume down to absolutely silent, because he had arrived at the Mouri residence. He walked up the stairs, the sound of Kogoro's TV getting easier to hear with every step. He opened the door and it was very, very loud.

"I'm home," said Conan. He had to shout over the TV, which was turned up to the maximum because of horse racing.

"Good," said Ran. She also had to shout. "Dinner's going to be ready in about twenty minutes."

Conan sought out a shelter from the noise and went into his and Kogoro's room. It was still obnoxious, but at least it was muted by the walls.  
He set out to do his homework. His brain told him it was the first time he ever looked at the math packet, but he was smart enough now to know that he had done every one of these simple problems nearly twenty times before. This was not an advantage because he couldn't remember what the answers were, and still had to do everything the hard way, even if the hard way was still extremely easy. Conan worked out the problems as quickly as he could but couldn't finish before being called out for dinner.

"I'm going to go see my uncle Yuusaku tomorrow," said Conan at the table. "He said he's visiting from all the way in America."

"All right," said Ran. "Is Yukiko-san coming too?"

"No, Yuusaku-ojisan told me she's busy."

Conan hoped Ran wasn't reminded of the last encounter she had with him and Yukiko, which was many years ago, but likely still fresh in her mind.


	6. September 21, 1994

"Have fun with your uncle," said Ran. "He's a funny guy."

"I know," said Conan. Ran opened the gate and he walked into the Kudo residence. A rental car was parked outside. "Bye, Ran-neechan."

"Bye, Conan." Conan turned around to look behind him as he rang the doorbell. Ran was still watching. She was probably waiting for Conan to be safely inside, and also to say hello to Yuusaku.

The door opened and Conan found himself picked up by his dad. "Hi there, Conan-kun," he said enthusiastically. Conan acted the same. Yuusaku looked beyond Conan and waved hello to Ran before going back inside the house. As soon as the door was shut, he placed Conan back on the ground. "Sorry about that."

"I don't mind, it's necessary."

Yuusaku handed Conan a piece of paper, which asked whether he knew if there were any bugs in the house. Even if the Organization didn't know anything about Shinichi except that he was likely dead, they could have them set up anyway.

Conan got a pencil out from his backpack and walked over to a table in the library. He flipped over the paper and wrote that he had gotten someone to check several times and there hadn't been any such surveillance set up.

"All right, I think we're in the clear, then," said Yuusaku. "I checked with our house guest earlier, as well."

"Where's Subaru-san?"

"I'm here," said Subaru. He walked out of the kitchen. Conan suddenly wondered if Ran had been waiting to see him as well.

"Akai-san, I have some important information to disclose to both you and Shinichi. I arrived here because using networks to send this information is too dangerous. Let's have a sit-down in the study." Everyone obliged.

"Shinichi recently asked me to investigate the organization that you have been a part of and that Shinichi has been affected by. I have connections within Interpol, which I know the FBI corresponds with on a regular basis."

"That's right," said Subaru. He folded his arms on the table.

"Through my research pertaining to the topics that I was asked to look into, and the cooperation of Interpol, I discovered the very real possibility that the Organization is much more dangerous and in control than we had thought of previously."

"To what scale?" asked Conan.

"The Organization has moles in the government of Japan itself. In a sense, they have total control over our country, excepting intervention from the UN. The organization also has branches in several other countries such as America, which I am sure you're aware of."

"We had a fiasco there with Vermouth. She committed several crimes over there for an exceedingly long time. Our first records of her existence as a criminal threat were in the 1980s. Then, through research, we found out that she was the perpetrator of several selective murders from much earlier. We couldn't act because we didn't know what she really looked like," said Subaru.

"How early?" asked Yuusaku.

"As early as the 1960s. She isn't as young as she looks."

"That's what Yukiko told me. And, with my new findings, I think I have found out why." Everyone waited on his words. "But I need evidence before I can say what I think happened."

"What's your theory?" asked Conan.  
"She probably takes some sort of anti-aging drug that they invented. I also have come to suspect that she isn't the only recipient of it. It's likely that other high-ranked members are not aging. This seems to be part of a larger branch of research involved with the longevity of the agents, and with time itself," said Yuusaku.

"Time?" asked Subaru.

"All the top scientists in the world work at the Organization. They have achieved scientific discoveries beyond our own standard line of advancement. They have learned how to reverse age and to stop time from flowing properly."

"So I was right," said Conan.

"I have come to understand that 1994 now has repeated itself for twenty years."

"Wait," said Conan. "How did you find this out? Are the Organization suspicious at all about Interpol or our inquiry?"

"You should take Interpol very seriously," said Yuusaku. "They don't blunder or get discovered."

"Neither does the Organization, though."

"They're like computers playing chess," said Subaru. "They have equally matched intelligence and skill."

"What if the organization has moles in Interpol, though?" asked Conan.

"I would tell you it was secure, but I know that you know that any security can be passed by the right kind of person. We're relying on the best identity technology and riding on trust. That's all we can do, and it's the same for the Organization."

"All right."

"This is a lot of new information," said Subaru, "but with it, things are starting to make a little more sense."

"I knew all of this already, though," said Conan, "or at least guessed it. What can we do now to stop them?"

"I'm not sure how much we can do," said Yuusaku. "The best plan we've got is infiltration. I know that the FBI has already been working on this."

"What has the Interpol been doing? If they already knew about this, why haven't they acted?" said Conan.

"They haven't found an opening yet," said Yuusaku.

"I think," said Subaru, "that out of all people, you would be the most likely one to successfully destroy them, Shinichi."

"Why do you think that?" asked Yuusaku.

"He's physically six and possesses genius beyond compare, as well as the wit to properly use it. He has an advantage over all of us, which is being able to seem innocent and helpless to everyone around him. You've seen him in action, haven't you?"

"I have. He's extremely good at what he does. But around the Organization you're due to get yourself killed, Shinichi. You've been seen with the FBI several times already. In addition, you've told me that Bourbon is suspicious of you. Things are coming down to the wire in that regard, and soon enough they're going to confirm that you are sided with them. If you act now, you'll become a target, and your identity may be found out."

"You're right," said Conan. "But they need to be taken down. We can't just let them ruin the lives of the entire earth's population."

"It may seem urgent," said Yuusaku, "but as you hinted in your call, we've got all the time we need to bring them down. If they keep time stopped like this, we have the advantage. We'll never get older or have different circumstances. We could go on living like this forever, gathering bits of information about the Organization, slowly plotting. It could take fifty years, a hundred. We've already seen twenty."

Conan shuddered. His inward fear of being Conan forever took over. He wouldn't even age up to Shinichi; he'd always be six and Ran would be sixteen and they would still never be able to properly talk or even be in each other's presence unless Haibara finally made a proper antidote that would completely wipe out the poison's effect, forever. If he was going to spend an eternal amount of time like this, he might as well tell Ran so that they could spend it together.

"That's what we've got to stop," said Subaru. "It isn't natural."

"It's the ultimate advantage for now, though, even if it is unnatural," said Yuusaku. "We won't die of old age regretting that we never defeated the Organization or reached a proper conclusion. We are still relatively young and able-bodied. We can't stop it yet, anyway."

"Besides," said Subaru, "that gives Shiho more time to create an antidote for Shinichi."

"Nevertheless, we need to keep investigating," said Conan. "We can't slow down our hunt just because we've been given a longer time limit. It won't end up well."

"I see your point," said Yuusaku, "but it won't end up well if the Organization catches on to us, either. We have to be cautious. Sometimes being slow is the best way."

Conan hated to admit it, but what his father had said had at least some truth to it. He had safely investigated the organization over a span of twenty years and gotten enough information about them that no FBI investigation team could discover in twice that time. Jodie and company had spent nearly two thirds of the paused time learning very little about their enemies, while Conan had been treated to a mutual truce with one of their members, frequent sightings of the assassins, and a hint at the Organization's ultimate goal (a hint that had been turned into a full conspiracy by now.) He wondered if the long span between their interactions was enough for the Organization to forget his potential as a threat.

"I'm going to stay here and get in contact with the FBI," said Yuusaku. "I will also be organizing my research and looking for more leads. Don't do anything hazardous, Shinichi."

"I won't."

* * *

Conan was now walking all the way back to the Mouri household, hands in pockets, face very serious. He was still considering confessing to Ran, but his father's words also echoed around in his brain. Telling Ran would still be dangerous, even if it meant that it would put both of them at inner peace. Still, she was probably better with secrets than Hattori had been.

That reminded him to contact Hattori and inform him of the current situation. He could be cautious like his father and get him to fly over from Osaka before telling him anything, but a gathering of allies might be seen as suspicious. Experience reminded him that the Organization did not have listeners on all phone lines. He would probably end up calling Hattori on Shinichi's cell phone, regardless of his father's wishes.

As for Ran, he wasn't fully sure of his decision yet, or how to pull it off. It would have to be at a good time, which was definitely not on a school night like this one. He had to be careful around Haibara in case she spotted him thinking about Ran, which apparently gave him a telltale expression.

Speaking of Haibara, he felt guilty for not actively involving her in their investigation of the organization. In that conversation earlier, she had been little more than a potential source of an antidote. She knew more about the Organization than anyone else that he was involved with, bar Subaru, she being a former scientist for their purposes. However, she had also not always been ready to share the Organization's inner workings with her allies, which may have seemed stubborn on her part, but, Conan considered, was really probably due to something much deeper. She had probably been restricted from high-level information anyway, regardless of her importance to the organization. Still, she had more experience on their way of thought than Subaru and himself, she having been raised on their principles. She was invaluable in the matter of their resistance.

Conan had been on this track of thought ever since he had walked home, and had actually reached his bedroom by the time that he had finished the topic. Ran had noticed.

"Hey Conan, have you been thinking about something?" she said.

"Yeah," said Conan, who was suddenly jolted out of his deep thinking. "I'm reading a mystery novel." It was the perfect excuse because he actually was doing that.

"I hope you solve it before the detective does," said Ran. "What book is it, anyway?"

"It's an Agatha Christie book," said Conan.

"Nice," said Ran.

Situation averted.

* * *

Conan stood in a shadier corner of Beika Park.

"Hey, Hattori," said Conan.

"What's up, Kudo?" asked Heiji through the speaker on the cell phone. "Why didn't you call me on Conan's phone?"

"It's important," said Conan, "and if any phone is being tracked right now, it's going to be my other one."

"All right, then," said Hattori. His voice lost its joviality. "You know, if it is that serious, I can just fly over."

"Don't, it'll be suspicious. I've already been talking to our other allies, and if you show up, anyone who's been taking notice will raise a red flag."

"All right, I'll trust your judgement. So what is it?"

"My dad is home and us and Subaru have been talking. I asked my father to do some research into the Organization and what he's found has been essential to our pursuit of them."

"Intriguing."

"It might also shock you if I told you what he found out. You're not in a public area, right?"

"Of course not."

"Well, the Organization has been controlling the flow of time, having put it to a stop. It's been 1994 for a very long time."

Conan listened as Hattori was silent, then nearly got his eardrum injured, as Hattori had screamed into the phone.

"You called to tell me that nonsense!?" he asked.

"But it's true," said Conan. "My father's research with the help of Interpol showed that they had been investigating time. I heard it from the dying words of Vermouth. You have to trust me on this one."

"So it's real?"

"Yeah. Just think about it. How much time have we actually spent hunting down the Organization? How long has it been since we met?"

"Maybe about five or six months? No, wait, make that six."

"Do you think that's enough time for you and I to solve hundreds of murders?"

"No." Hattori grew silent again and Conan had to check if the line was dead. It wasn't.

"We've been at this for nearly twenty years," Conan said.

"How is it even possible!?" Hattori said. Conan was prepared this time and had distanced the phone from his ear beforehand.

"I don't know, but it is how it is."

"What does this mean for us?"

"Well, firstly, it's affected the entire populace's subconscious, who all think that it's only been a couple months. Like what you said earlier. What entitled you to say that it had only been six months?"

"It seemed concrete enough in my mind."

"That's what's behind all of it. It's manipulating us to perceive it like that."

"Oh."

"Secondly, we have spent enough time that I should be in my twenties and you in your thirties."

"That's ridiculous. I don't feel thirty."

"That's because we haven't actually aged. We have enough experience to be that old, but we still have the minds of seventeen year olds."  
"And you still have to deal with being six."

"As a matter of fact, I've spent more 'time' being Conan than I have as Shinichi."

"That sucks, but… How does this fit in with our investigation? What can we do based on this information?"

"If we find a lead, we can take them down and get time to flow again, if that's even possible."

"What if this is permanent?"

"I don't know, Hattori. But hey, go look in a picture book and look at how many times we've passed specific dates again and again. That was enough proof for me."

"No, I don't really need proof for this. I have a feeling that everything you're saying is right already."

"Good. Thirdly, if things continue like this, I think I should tell Ran."

"I don't know, Kudo. The last time you did that, you told me Haibara pointed a gun to your head."

"Maybe I shouldn't tell Haibara, then."

"She's bound to find out somehow. Unless you tell Ran to act innocent in front of her."

"That's plausible, but even if Ran is a good actor in a play, she might not be able to seem like everything's fine in front of someone like Haibara, especially with the stress of knowing about me."

"Are you saying Ran isn't strong?"

"No. I'm saying that Ran shouldn't have to do this. I don't want to give her trouble because of my situation. More importantly, I don't want her to die because of it."

"But you already have been giving her trouble by not telling her. When she gets suspicious, she gets depressed because she knows you know she knows and you won't say anything. Also, I still think you're not giving Ran enough trust. You've let many people in on your secret, like that Eisuke guy, and no one has leaked it yet. If Ran finds out, she's going to act normal in the best way she can, just like everyone else. No one is perfect at keeping your identity hidden."

"Too many people already know. Most of the people that found out had either deduced it, like you, Eisuke, and Vermouth, or it was a matter of necessity, like my parents and Agasa."

"She's deduced it more than once, and has been right every time. She just never has proof because you refuse to admit it and get someone else to back you up. You ought to just tell her already. Fooling around and waiting will just make it more awkward when everything is outright revealed."

"That's true, but what will Haibara say?"

"Just don't tell her, like you said earlier. And if she does find out, lie and say that Ran cornered you and that you had no choice."

"I can't lie to Haibara. She can tell."

"Well, if you're not going to tell Ran, do you want me to pretend to slip in public and 'accidentally' reveal you?"

"That just makes for an awkward situation, Hattori."

"Okay, okay. But if you don't tell her soon, I'm going to."

"I'll find some way to work with this. If something comes up and I'm in trouble, you do not tell her, all right? I don't want her coming after me into danger. Her life would be at stake."

"All right. Anything else?"

"No, but stay careful."


	7. September 22, 1994

Conan got out of school the next day. He opened up his cell phone. No missed calls. Then he opened up Shinichi's. Several of them.

It had been Subaru who had called him eight times. He should have known better that Conan was in school and didn't do cellular communication in class. Nevertheless, he dialed his number and held the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" said Conan.

"It's urgent," said Subaru.

"What happened?"

"Your father has been missing since early this afternoon."

Conan knew that this implied that his father had either carelessly broken his self-imposed rule of not leaving the house, or had actually been kidnapped, and the former was extremely unlikely. This was not good.

"When did you last see him?"

"I left the house to buy groceries. He was working in his study. When I returned, he was gone. There were no signs that anything had been touched or damaged."

"He left the house as it was?"

"Yes."

"Even the lights were still on?"

"No, actually. To anyone else it would appear that he had just gone on an errand, but I know he knows better."

* * *

"Block 25, Beika-cho."

"That's really close," said Conan. "I'll look the building up on the Internet."

"They might be tracking our IP. If we do that, they'll know that we know."

"Fine. We'll have to just scout it out."

"We've got to go as soon as possible."

"I wouldn't do that," said Subaru. "They've probably been watching the house. If we leave, they're going to see it as suspicious. We have to act as if things are normal for the time being."

"How can we act normal when my father is missing?"

"We're going to call the police and ask to start a search."

"We can't get the police involved, much less go to that address."

"They won't know about the address."

"I see."

"While the search is being conducted, we'll find our own way to investigate without being noticed." Subaru took out his cell phone and dialed the number to the police department.

"I've got an idea."

* * *

"You're saying that Kudo Yuusaku was kidnapped?" said Takagi, who had entered the doorway.

"Yes," said Sato, "and I've told you that five times already."

"But I still can't believe it. Who would take a famous novelist like him? He's even solved real mysteries. He shouldn't be having this kind of trouble."

Megure was engaged with Subaru.

"I last saw him when I went out for groceries earlier this afternoon," said Subaru.

"Who are you again?" asked Megure.

"I'm a friend renting out his house, and I do the housekeeping when he visits."

"How long had he been in Japan?"

"Only a day or so."

"And he wasn't accompanied by his wife?"

"No, she had personal business in America."

"Assuming this is all correct, on what business did he come to Japan for?"

"It was just a trip to visit family and friends."

"I see."

* * *

Conan walked to number 259. It had not been that far, so he had left his skateboard at home, and had ended up at a large industrial building. With a change of clothing, a lack of glasses, and a proper light brown wig on, he didn't look like himself at all, which was very convenient.

He went into the back of the parking lot. Gin's Porsche shone in the moonlight like a huge black cricket. Conan swallowed his nervousness resolutely and snuck past it, avoiding the cameras he had spotted earlier. He had confronted the Organization with less caution before, he reassured himself. They were just as faulty as anyone else facing a detective of his level and skill. He found a door out of the range of the cameras and quietly picked its lock. It might have been illegal, but it was in the name of justice in the first place. The metal doorknob finally budged, and Conan slipped in as silently as he could.

He entered a brightly lit corridor. No one was around, but as soon as Conan closed the door behind him with similar caution as when opening it, he flung himself to the right wall and inched towards the first open doorway.

He turned and looked into the room. It was empty of people. Brooms, buckets, mops, and cleaning chemicals lined the walls. It was a janitor's closet. If the janitor's closet was open and unlocked, it was likely that either the janitor was on his shift unaware of the organization's infiltration, or the thugs had needed to clean up an unsavory mess. Conan shuddered a little. He slipped into the room and inspected it. A few things appeared to be missing from shelves, but he had no idea what they were. He decided that it wasn't worth deducting what these objects were, and exited, continuing to edge across the side of the wall.

The next room was closed and locked, with a window in the upper part of the door. Conan could not see through the window, and there were no sounds or light coming from inside. He figured that if Gin and Vodka were here, they would be engaged with his father, and wouldn't leave him alone in a room on their busy schedule. He moved on. Suddenly, he heard unfamiliar voices coming down from a second corridor (the halls met at a T) as well as footsteps that gradually drew nearer. Conan quickly and quietly returned to the janitor's closet and hid himself behind a shelf, trying to keep his breaths below detection. He listened in for conversation.

"I saw you teeming with anger back there, partner," said one of them. "You're not to question Gin, no matter what he asks of you."

"I think he is going too far in this matter," said the other, "and why the boss hasn't stopped him yet is a mystery to me."

"It doesn't matter." Their voices and footsteps faded into obscurity again.

Conan did not gain anything from this except fear that his father was being treated poorly. He stepped out again when all was silent and proceeded to the very corner of the T-shaped corridor. He carefully looked down the right side and then the left. He caught sight of the two men walking into another room. They were, as expected, dressed in black. Both were of average size and one had short gray hair under his hat, while the other had black shoulder-length hair and no hat at all. Conan took notice of their mannerisms (the gray-haired man was left-handed) and decided to head down the right corridor, which was where Gin probably was.

Despite his best intentions to stay calm, Conan's heart was beating fast, and he felt sweat on his forehead and the back of his neck. As he edged down the hallway, he took deep breaths as quietly as he could, trying to keep his anxiety from betraying him. He had every right for his nerves to be on edge, seeing as these were assassins who had kidnapped his father and done even more unspeakable things in the past. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and kept his hands off the walls to prevent oily stains from forming that would be telltale signs of his presence. Gin had doubted before that a child would be investigating them, but Conan knew better than to use that as an excuse to be lazy.

He caught the pungent smell of cigarette smoke. Someone was taking a smoke break. Conan got to the first open door on his side of the hallway and quickly peered in. It was somebody's office, and the lights were off. He could use it as a hiding place in case one of the agents decided to go for another stroll, except there was someone already occupying the room at the moment.

Conan realized what he was looking at. There was a bald man at the desk, wearing business clothes, unconscious. Conan crept into the room and checked the man's pulse. He had been knocked out, but not killed; it was likely to have been done with chloroform, as he was not injured. He had probably been present when the Organization took the building for use, and quietly silenced, as if he had just taken a peaceful nap.

With the mention in his mind of chloroform, Conan recalled when his parents had falsely kidnapped him in order to convince him that the Organization was rightfully dangerous and that his mission would be safer if he went to America. This was coincidentally similar to that day, except now it was his father who was in danger because of Conan's desire to find out about the Organization's dealings and stop them. He felt a pang of guilt in his heart. His father had put in so much effort to help his son, and he was the one who might pay for it with his life. It was almost selfish of Conan to have requested his aid, he decided. People were dying because he was trying to get his body back and get time back to normal. Nothing was wrong at the moment outside of his life. Conan was the only one who had a problem with his situation, and everyone else seemed content reliving the same time of their life over and over again.

Conan was snapped out of this guilt trip by a noise from the room next to him. It sounded like something heavy had fallen. He hoped it wasn't what he thought it was. He got up to the adjoining wall and held his ear close, hoping to hear what was happening. Someone walked out of the room and down the hallway, and Conan hid behind the desk as they passed by the room. From the heavy steps, he guessed it was Vodka. Gin was probably in the next room.

Fearing that Gin would follow Vodka after some casual hesitance, Conan didn't go out of the doorway to watch where Vodka went. He heard the click of a lighter, and figured that Gin had decided to indulge in a cigarette as well. Someone coughed farther away from the wall. Conan was delighted to know that a third person had been in the room, meaning that his father was likely alive.

What could Conan do at this point? There was no way he could barge in and knock out Gin. He had shown the ability to resist potent tranquilizers and was extremely thick-skinned when it came to injuries. Even if Vodka was the tougher-looking one, it was that silver-haired fox of a man who had incredible stamina. Conan was powerless against Gin unless he came up with a way to outsmart him. His best hope was that both of them would leave at one point, but the Organization never left openings for their plans to fail. Still, they weren't expecting someone of Conan's age to be infiltrating them, and they only had one prisoner to look after, who was probably bound up tightly.

Gin didn't move. He stood as still as a statue. Conan couldn't even hear his breathing. His father was conscious, right? Was he gagged? When he had coughed, it didn't sound like his mouth was muffled. What did this silence mean, then? Had Gin ordered his father to keep silent or face death?

Conan's mind raced while these silent minutes passed by. He had to come up with a proper way to get his father out of the building and in a safe place. His own home had been eliminated as a haven, and so had Agasa's. The Mouri household was out of the question. None of the police officers knew Yuusaku extensively. Subaru had suggested that Conan take his father to hide with the FBI, but he felt it would be too obvious from the Organization's point of view. Buying a plane ticket would be a dead giveaway, as well. Who was his father friends with that he could trust? Toichi Kuroba, a correspondent of his father's, had been dead for years. Conan feared that his father wouldn't have any ideas of where to go either, but he remembered that he always had a trick up his sleeve about these sort of things. They would find a way.

Vodka returned to the supposed interrogation room. "I told those rookies off, aniki," he said.

"I'm ashamed of them," said Gin. "They couldn't keep a cat in a box, even if they were actually trying."

Conan heard a series of little snaps. Vodka was cracking his knuckles.

"Now, Kudo Yuusaku, let us resume your interrogation. My friend will see to it that you won't make an attempt to leave again," said Gin.  
There was no response. Conan imagined that his father was either too hurt to talk back, or was giving them a determined glare, like he himself had done so many times to his father. It was kind of strange to think about it.

"You investigated us after the death of your son, as you claim. How did you obtain knowledge of our existence? How did you know that we of all people killed him?"

Conan gritted his teeth, as they had brought up the worst topic possible.

"Someone witnessed it," said Yuusaku. His words were labored and lacked energy.

"Who?"

"I can't tell you that…"

"I wouldn't say that if I were you," said Gin.

"Too bad."

"I've prepared snipers to dispatch those close to you."

Yuusaku didn't respond. Conan was getting ready to jump into the action, regardless of the consequences of his identity.

"Your wife is currently attending a party, isn't she? The famous former actress, Kudo Yukiko…"

Conan wondered if his father was taking his time to construct an elaborate lie. It was taking far too long for his own good.

"I'll tell you," said Yuusaku.

"Then spit it out."

"An FBI member who was tracking you watched you kill my son."

"His name?"

"Akai Shuichi."

"I see you prepared this lie well," said Gin, "but roping a dead man into your tale hasn't done you any good. Vodka, instruct Korn to prepare to take out his wife."

Yuusaku remained silent. Conan was too angry. His mother's life was at stake, and Yuusaku had resorted to telling a transparent lie. Akai had been in America at that time. Why didn't his father know this? Why was he letting his spouse's life go so easily and stoically?

"Of course," said Gin, "you may be thinking that the police will suspect the coinciding of your disappearance and your wife's death. Fear not for our anonymity, it will only look like a suicide."

Conan knew Gin was smirking with his demonic grin as he said these words, and it only made him furious. He stood up from the wall he was crouching sideways against and ran towards the door. If he was going to do anything, he was going to knock out Vodka before he could give the orders, even if it meant that Gin would know something was afoot. As he looked at Vodka from behind, Vodka dialed the number, an earpiece hooked up to his cell phone. Quickly looking over his shoulder for the other pair of Organization agents, who were not present, Conan opened the watch and aimed the crosshairs at Vodka's neck and shot. Then he darted back into the room and hid in a corner behind a fairly large bookcase.

A loud thump had resounded as Conan tried to make himself completely undetectable. Gin walked over to Vodka. "D**n it, Kudo," he said. "You got someone to follow you." He walked out of the room, paused, and then walked into the dark office. There was nowhere an adult would have been able to hide. He checked under the desk regardless of this, and then in the drawers. Conan suspected that he was looking for evidence. Gin slammed a drawer and left the room, walking down the hallway and taking a left.

This was Conan's only chance. He crept into the interrogation room, stepping over Vodka's body. He picked up the earpiece and cell phone. The room was another vacant office. The desk had been removed and Yuusaku was tied to the chair in the center. Conan slipped off the wig enough to show his normal black bangs.

"Shinichi," said Yuusaku. He had a gash on his forehead.

"Dad, why didn't you save Mom?" Conan said, ignoring the sentimentalities. "She was about to die!" They were whispering, but Conan's tone had turned very harsh.

"She already knows she's in danger. I had her stay at a friend's house. No one knows about it. If our captor here had called Korn, he would have reported that she was nowhere to be found."

"Oh."

"I'm glad you came, but our situation isn't as good now, since you've alerted them to your presence."

"We need to get out of here right now. Do you know a place that you can stay safely at?"

"Yes. But first we need to get out of this building. Untie me and then follow my lead."

"Okay, Dad." Conan borrowed Vodka's knife and slit the ropes open. Yuusaku stood up and stretched his limbs.

"How close is the exit to us?" asked Conan.

Yuusaku motioned for Conan to remain quiet. Gin was returning from the search with the two associates following closely. Yuusaku picked up a long lamp rod that had been on the ground, and Conan realized that it had been the object which had fallen over earlier. His father held it up in a swinging stance as the footsteps got closer. Conan got behind Yuusaku in order to avoid discovery.

As soon as the black-suited figure appeared in the doorway, Yuusaku swung the metal rod of the lamp with all his might. It was stopped by the side of Gin's hand, and a silver-tinted pistol came up around the corner in his other hand, cocked and ready to fire.

"Return to your seat, Kudo Yuusaku."

Yuusaku dropped the lamp post. Conan felt his blood run ice cold with both fear and adrenaline-fueled decisiveness. He took his bowtie out from his pocket and set it to the highest frequency and volume possible, then yelled into it, creating a screeching noise that disoriented everyone in the room. He then pressed a button on his belt buckle and a soccer ball appeared from within the device. While Gin was clutching at his ears but still pointing the gun at Yuusaku, Conan kicked the ball and sent it into Gin's face. The associates behind Gin watched as he toppled over near Vodka, and they instinctively pulled out their own pistols. They turned their attention from the unconscious bodies of their higher-ups to the intruders, but were instead met with Yuusaku's fist before seeing stars.

"I know the best exit," said Yuusaku. He ran down the hallway with Conan in tow and pushed on the handle of a thick door at the end. Yuusaku swore under his breath and then turned to Conan. "It's locked. How did you get in?"

"Down that hallway," said Conan, pointing in the opposite direction. "There are video cameras, though. Assuming there are more than four Organization members here, they're going to follow us right away."

"It's only the four of them," said Yuusaku. "There are only two cars out front who don't possess the company sticker."

"Then we have some more time on our hands."

Yuusaku and Conan ran across the hallway. They passed the corridor where the tussle had taken place and glanced to make sure that there were still four bodies lying around the doorway. Yuusaku pushed on the metal door as Conan silently hoped for everything to pull through. The door budged this time and the two slipped out. They ran close to the building's wall out of the camera's reach until they were on the sidewalk again.

"Where do we go now?" said Conan.

"As it happens, I've got a meeting at my friend's place," said Yuusaku. "But you're not coming."

"I see," said Conan. "There's a taxi."

Yuusaku hailed the taxi and it braked hard, screeching to a halt some couple of meters ahead of them. They hopped in. "Take us to Beika district 5, by the Mouri Detective Agency."

"You got a case at this time of night?" asked the driver.

"Just dropping off a resident," said Yuusaku. The engine revved and the taxi took off down the street.

"Almost forgot this," said Yuusaku, taking a small sticker with a microchip on it off the back collar of his jacket and tossing it out the window.

"Why didn't you take that off as soon as we left?" said Conan.

"I'm going to throw them off once you're home."

"Are you sure that thing didn't have a microphone in it?"

"Yes. One of those thugs had the receiver to that chip with them, and their voices didn't echo, nor did the receiver produce any interference from being too close to the bug. Also, the receiver was a GPS. It didn't have a speaker."

"So that's why you were so calm about it."

Conan watched outside. It was beginning to rain and droplets were already blurring the taxi's windows.

"Hey, otou-san, why not drop me off at Agasa-hakase's house?"

"It's too close to not be suspicious."

"Fine, but you have to tell Ran and Ojisan why I'm coming back now."

"Fair enough."

The taxi finally stopped under the lights of the detective agency. Yuusaku escorted Conan inside and up the stairs to the third floor. He politely rang the doorbell and folded his hands behind his back.

"Oh, it's you, Kudo-san," said Kogoro, opening the door slightly drunk.

"I'm just here to drop Conan-kun off. It's a school night and all."

Conan stepped indoors and took off his shoes, and began his bedtime routine.

"Thanks for taking him all the way here."

Kogoro and Yuusaku continued their small talk as Conan walked down the hall and stopped. He had forgotten his backpack at his house. As soon as he was in the bathroom, he pulled out his Shinichi phone and texted Subaru asking if he could prepare the backpack for the next day. He had gotten a lucky break from homework anyway.


End file.
